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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369344">go, be yourself on your way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatiranianphantom/pseuds/thatiranianphantom'>thatiranianphantom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And have no fear, But to be clear we're not demonizing Jessica, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Have I ever steered you wrong?, Hurt/Comfort, It's bughead all the way babey, Jessica's there but barely?, Jughead makes some questionable decisions here and I am updating the tags, You not doing right by her Jug, You'll like it trust me, and me feeling bad for Jessica, bughead is still here, but it's still 3000 words of hurt/comfort, hurt Betty, if that's not your jam I get it, it's all bughead, it's just 2-3 chapters of hurt comfort and bughead being there for each other, kind of, season 5 speculation, so much hurt comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatiranianphantom/pseuds/thatiranianphantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d just as soon fade into the background but Betty Cooper won’t let him. She holds his hand the whole day and drags him to everything. She calls him “Juggie” and it makes him feel all funny and warm inside. She makes a sandcastle with him at recess and shares her last cookie with him. She saves a seat for him on the carpet during storytime and lays her little blonde head on his shoulder as Ms. Woods reads them The Berenstein Bears. </p><p>Or, five years post-Graduation, an accidental reunion and Betty and Jughead finding their way back to each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i wish i could lose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, I'll be honest with you. </p><p>Betty falls through the ice. </p><p>But we can still have a good time, can't we? </p><p>This is excessive hurt/comfort, so basically, my weakness. And I got to write baby Bughead!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a year. </p><p> </p><p>He and Jessica had met during his third year of college. There had been a few girls since then. A few dates, nothing serious. Some of them were nice. It was nice to talk to people, nice to have a meal and a laugh with someone. Nice, in general. </p><p> </p><p>But it never really lasted. </p><p> </p><p>He was still hurt his first year, after what had happened with Betty. To some degree, he wonders if he’ll always be hurt. But in his third year, he met Jessica. And it lasted. Nine months later, they moved in together.</p><p> </p><p>Jughead likes her. She’s supportive, pretty, sweet. Everything one looks for. It’s good. It’s love, yes, but a kind of love that feels...different. He’s had love, and he’s pretty sure it was still love despite how it ended. But he wonders, sometimes, because what he and Jessica have feels like something else altogether. It’s hard to describe but it’s...less all-consuming. It’s milder, he supposes. In a good way, he’d rush to add. Probably, almost certainly in a good way. He likes her. He doesn’t crave her, but he likes her. And probably, that’s what adult love was supposed to be like. </p><p> </p><p>Jessica initiated all the steps. She had asked him out. She’d pushed for a second date. She’d said “I love you” first. She had decided they were moving in together. Sometimes she looks at him and sighs, a dreamy look in her eyes. He wonders if he looks at her the same way. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They live in the same city. He knows this. But it’s not like Riverdale. Philadelphia is a big city. In a city of 1.5 million people, the chances he’ll run into her are slim. This has worked for nearly five years. To the best of his knowledge, they don’t work near each other, they don’t live near each other, and they run in entirely different circles. </p><p> </p><p>He tries not to think of her. Mostly because when he does think of her, it puts the most confusing jumble of feelings inside him and he’d prefer not to deal with it. It’s been nearly half a decade. They’d both moved on. They were no longer in high school, and their relationship was done. By that definition, there should be no reason that he should feel anything for her. And if he <em> were </em>to dig into what he feels for her, it would complicate things with Jess. </p><p> </p><p>So he tries not to think about it. He tries not to stalk her social media, but once there was a picture of a guy in it, and he was standing close to her. Not too close, but close enough. On second thought, perhaps too close but as his brain keeps reminding him, that’s not his business anymore. He looked at the photo once, maybe twice. Or maybe more than that, because Instagram sends him a notification reading “<em> you seem to like this account a lot. Maybe give them a follow?” </em>It feels like a direct attack, and he closes the app for a week. </p><p> </p><p>He is so dedicated to not thinking about her, to not looking for her face in every crowd, that he quite literally doesn’t see her right in front of him. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s a day off from writing, a rare one. He strolls through the park to clear his head, as he often does when the inspiration must be dragged from him, kicking and screaming. The icy air bites at his face as he tucks his chin in to the thin scarf he’s barely remembered to bring. It’s a gray, gloomy day and those are his favorite of late, because there’s barely anyone in the park. He’s running a scene over and over in his head, but the dialogue doesn’t spring off the page the way it normally does. His mind is bare, like the empty pages of his book. Like the park, but for the single shadow of a person he sees on the lake. </p><p> </p><p>It piques his interest right away, because nobody goes on the lake. The brightly posted sign advertises that being a bad idea right off the bat. </p><p> </p><p><em> Thin ice. Unsafe. </em>It reads in black, bold letters. And how. Jughead had dipped a toe on that ice once and watched it spiderweb out immediately. The first and last time he’ll go through it, but now there’s a person on it. </p><p> </p><p>It’s interesting enough to point his steps near the expanse of the lake. There’s a jagged outcropping of ice that the person leans near. The stranger is wearing a trench coat that hugs them tightly, but looks slightly inappropriate for the sub-zero temperatures. It’s a woman, Jughead can see that much. He can’t get a good look, but suddenly, his book’s protagonist flashes across his mind, the spitting image of this stranger. </p><p> </p><p>It’s more inspiration than he’s had in weeks, and then she takes her hat off. </p><p> </p><p>A blonde ponytail whips in the wind, and his heart stops. </p><p> </p><p>It’s her. He’d know her anywhere, and it’s her, standing in the middle of the lake, leaning over a jagged edge of ice. It’s freezing, but he feels more frozen inside than any weather could could cause. </p><p> </p><p>It’s minutes, hours, possibly days that he stands, staring at her. He can scarcely breathe, because she’s here. He’s so spellbound that at first he doesn’t hear it. </p><p> </p><p>He’ll think about that, much later. How he didn’t hear the cracking, see the spiderwebbing, until it was halfway to its destination.</p><p> </p><p>But because he’s watching closely, too closely, he sees her eyes lift, and then meet his. He’s not even sure he’s breathing. It’s been five years, almost. But he sees her. He’s never not seen her. </p><p> </p><p>And as sure as he sees her, he sees the spiderwebbed cracking of the ice and its trajectory towards her. </p><p> </p><p>And he sees her fall. </p><p> </p><p>And he hears the sickening crunch of bone as she falls over the rock. </p><p> </p><p>And he watches in mute horror as the ice opens, and sucks her in. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> He meets Betty Cooper at five years old. It’s on the school playground, because his father has told him, not in so many words, that he and Alice Cooper tended to give each other a wide berth.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Internally, he comes to refer to those five missing years as the lost years, but at least he meets her. She pulls Reggie Mantle off him and assuredly takes his hand to lead him into kindergarten.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’d just as soon fade into the background but Betty Cooper won’t let him. She holds his hand the whole day and drags him to everything. She calls him “Juggie” and it makes him feel all funny and warm inside. She makes a sandcastle with him at recess and shares her last cookie with him. She saves a seat for him on the carpet during storytime and lays her little blonde head on his shoulder as Ms. Woods reads them The Berenstein Bears.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It feels nice, and nicer when she moves their coat hooks together and declares it as because “you’re my best friend, Juggie!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She drags him by the hand to his father at the end of the day and gives his cheek a wet kiss before bouncing away. From then on, he knows no life without Betty Cooper.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In later weeks, months, years, he’s still not sure how the ice didn’t simply disintegrate under him, because his footfalls aren’t gentle when he tramps over the ice to get to her. </p><p> </p><p>It is, in fact, the only thought in his head. </p><p> </p><p><em> Get to Betty. Help Betty. Save Betty. </em>Some things never change, he supposes. </p><p> </p><p>The water is red with blood, and his brain struggles to process this. He sees the ice splinter beneath him, and he struggles with this as well. </p><p> </p><p>He reaches a hand out and seizes the fabric of her jacket. He yanks hard, and two sounds respond. A groan of pain, though her eyes are closed. And a crunching sound, from the surface barely holding the two of them up. </p><p> </p><p>It’s perhaps ten feet to the shore, but as her body slips through his hands, as he frantically tries to hold on, ten may as well be a hundred. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a blur, but probably, he told someone to call an ambulance. Likely, he dragged her to the path. Definitely, he saw the bone sticking from her leg. Absolutely, he sees her eyes closed but hears her groans of pain. </p><p> </p><p>And as sure as anything, he looks at her face, still beautiful five years later. He traces a finger down her cheek, sinks his hands into the blonde of her hair, slides his hand to hers. </p><p> </p><p>She’s barely conscious, but her fingers lace into his and her eyes open, just a bit. </p><p> </p><p>She looks at him like she can’t believe it, like he’s a dream. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Juggie </em>,” she breathes, and then her eyes close. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s as if a book is being written of them. He’s a writer. He’s trained to think in metaphor, in simile, in long term. And if there’s a book, it began long ago, with five year old Jughead and Betty. On it went, thirteen years long. And after, most would have thought the book closed. He among them, admittedly. Their story over, their lives diverging in different paths. Now, though, he’s not sure that ever was. Perhaps it was just the intermission, of sorts.</p><p> </p><p>The ambulance comes, and he’s still holding her hand. She’s unconscious, she’s cold, but she’s breathing. And her fingers are still wound tightly around his. </p><p> </p><p>So when she’s loaded on the stretcher, she doesn’t let go, and he doesn’t even think about it before he gets in the ambulance after her. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a blur after that, because it needs to be. His phone rings once, twice, three times and he barely notices it. She’s in front of him and they’re putting tubes into her and pumping her chest and there’s a tube down her throat and they’re yelling about surgery and it’s all <em> too much. </em></p><p> </p><p>So he focuses on her fingers laced with his. He can warm her up. He presses both his palms to her hand, and feels the heat seep in. </p><p> </p><p><em> I’m here </em> , it seems to say. <em> I’ve got you. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They rip her hand from his to take her to surgery. He wants to come, he begs to come. He doesn’t want her to be alone. But they take her from him, and then he’s the one that feels frozen. </p><p> </p><p>He texts his dad. “Betty’s hurt. Get back now.” It’s all he can manage. They’re on vacation, he knows. They won’t be back soon. And as had been made so obvious to him, he had no idea if she had friends close to her. Maybe more than friends. He saw no ring, but maybe she was married. Maybe there was a husband he could call.</p><p> </p><p>And then two more faces flash into his head. Veronica, and Archie. </p><p> </p><p>Had they made up? Or were they like he and she? Alone, shut out from the life that was only five years ago, but seemed like a lifetime. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Archie’s father builds the treehouse when they’re seven, and they spend long hours sitting up there, sneaking out snacks and books. Archie reads comics, Betty and Jughead pore over Baxter Brothers and Tracy True mysteries. He feels safe up here, tucked away from Daddy and Mommy fighting and Jellybean’s tears and empty fridges and big envelopes with the words “PAST DUE” printed in red on the front. At points, he never wants to go home. Betty brings him things that she and her Mommy have baked for him to take home and she reads out loud to him sometimes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Archie thinks their books are boring but Jughead suspects its because he’s only on reading level D and Betty and Jughead are already on O. Sometimes Reggie Mantle asks him to come play soccer and it’s just Betty and Jughead in the treehouse, eating candy for dinner.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> On one occasion, he comes to with a sneeze. Looking around, he finds blonde hair in his face and a warm body pressed against him and he hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. He had, though, and so had Betty, whose cheek is pressed into his shoulder and whose arm is slung around him. He’s warmer now than he’s been in a long time, and he doesn’t move a muscle.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She sighs in her sleep and his stomach does this funny tingling thing, but he doesn’t move until both of their parents call from the bottom of the stairs for them to come home.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s two hours later, and she’s out of surgery. Sedated, they said. Hypothermia, compound fracture, lacerations. But she’ll be okay. </p><p> </p><p>His phone has rang three more times and he’s seen Jessica’s name at least two of those times. </p><p> </p><p>He texts her “Fine. Will explain later,” and gives it no more thought than that. </p><p> </p><p>He’s still having trouble processing Betty being back in his life. It’s been mere hours, and before that she was absent for years. That one look she’d given him at the lake pierces him. They’d stood long feet apart, but he can still see the piercing green looking at him. </p><p> </p><p>The doctors tell him that she’ll wake in a few hours. He doesn’t even question it. He asks for her room number, and he takes her hand again. Her skin is warm, and that’s a comfort. She’s breathing.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>She comes to violently. She wakes up and there’s a tube down her throat, and beeping, and doctors, and he can hardly blame her for being terrified. He’s pushed to a corner of the room as they painstakingly take the tube out, but she doesn’t calm when it’s gone. In fact, she’s more panicked. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in everything, her body curls in on itself, and her hands bat away anyone who tries to come near.</p><p> </p><p>Tears leak out, and he’s never been able to stand to see her cry. That is what it takes to get him pushing through the crowd of doctors and nurses and taking her face in his. </p><p> </p><p>Her wide green eyes meet his and something changes. Something crackles in the air, envelops them both. Her fingers relax and come up to lay over his.</p><p> </p><p>He’s looking at her. He’s looking at her like before and it somehow feels like no time has passed.</p><p> </p><p>They’re so enveloped in the moment that he barely notices her legs relaxing into the bed, or the nurses murmuring as they hook tubes to monitors. She’s calmer, but the fear is still palpable in her. She hates hospitals, he knows. Bad associations, bad memories. It feels like being sucked back into a life that they both fought so hard to leave behind. </p><p> </p><p>And now she’s woken in a room surrounded by strangers, alone. </p><p> </p><p>She turns her face into his chest, and he murmurs soothing words in her ear. Her fingers reach to lace with his, pressing their hands tightly together. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Betty never lets go, and it’s the only way she’ll allow them to change her IV. She clutches his hand the whole time, and he soothes his thumb over her skin. He murmurs words of comfort, and even then, she’s tense. Even then, she regards every doctor, nurse, and piece of medical equiptment as an enemy. </p><p> </p><p>They try to give her an injection and she shies away, shaking her head rapidly. He squeezes her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Trust me, he tells her. You don’t have to trust them. I won’t let them hurt you. </p><p> </p><p>She clutches at him while they do it, but allows it. He’s never seen her like this, so scared and unsure.They ask him to come outside and fill out some paperwork. As soon as her hand leaves his, she’s reaching back out, eyes wide with tears and panic. </p><p> </p><p>“No, Juggie,” she says, the tears wetting her cheeks. “Stay with me. Please stay.” </p><p> </p><p>He wants to tell her he’ll be gone only a moment, that he’ll be right back, that he’s not leaving her, but her fingers clutch his and her eyes are big and sad and he can’t seem to get the words out. It’s as if he’s not in control of his body as he sits down next to her, pulls her into his chest and murmurs in her ear. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Betts,” he soothes. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you alone for one second.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulls her to him and his phone vibrates again. It’s the last in a long line of phone calls and she lifts her head to look at him with a question in her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>He gives her a tiny smiles and silences the phone. “Nothing important,” he says. </p><p> </p><p>(Perhaps, looking back on it, he should taken that to be as clear as sign as any.) </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> They’re eight when Jughead gets the news that he may have to transfer. Southside Elementary is closer to his home, the social worker says, and he’ll make friends quickly. Betty Cooper is indignant.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “He has friends,” she says, for once standing up to an adult. “Juggie is staying here. He’s my best friend.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She says it as if that’s reason enough, and again, his stomach does that funny tingling thing. Maybe he’s eaten something bad.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The social worker smiles placatingly at Betty, tells her not to worry, that everything will work out, but she is not satisfied, so Betty Cooper does what Betty Cooper does best - take things in her own hands.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She talks to her mother, her father, the principal, the teachers, she sobs to Jughead’s dad that he can’t let this happen. He doesn’t know if its her persistence, or the image of the prim, well-dressed Northside girl crying over her shabbily dressed friend, but someone writes a small fluff piece about them in the local paper, and there is enough write-ins to the school district that Jughead does not have to move.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He hugs Betty in delight and thanks her profusely, but she waves off his thanks. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Of course, Juggie,” she says. “We’ll be together forever, don’t worry. I’ll make sure of it.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He still thinks about that now, near fifteen years later, about what it would have been like, if it happened. What would life be like without Betty Cooper?  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. something so dear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And, two days into Betty’s hospital stay, he’s getting the hang of the routine. He has to, because Betty hasn’t stopped clutching him in those two days. He changes and uses the bathroom when she’s dead asleep, eats with her, sleeps with her curled into his chest and it’s something he doesn’t allow his psyche to dive too deep into. He doesn’t allow himself the comparison to before.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(APOLOGIES TO THE SUBSCRIBERS. THIS ISN'T SHOWING UP IN THE TAG. I TRIED DELETING AND REUPLOADING IT BUT IT DIDN'T SEEM TO FIX IT, SO SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE EMAIL)</p><p>Hoo boy, she's back.</p><p>Honestly, my job has been sucking so much from me that I just haven't had the emotional energy for this. But we go on!</p><p>In this chapter, Jughead makes some morally very questionable decisions, but I see this as twofold:</p><p>1. It's never going to be over when you've loved someone since you were five years old.<br/>2. It's FANFICTION. I have updated the tags accordingly. </p><p>Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! It's 3000 more words of bughead, both baby!Bughead and current bughead. I feel cheated that bwe didn't see Jughead pining over Betty more in the show. How nice would some good S1 pining have been?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re ten when he realizes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Granted, they’re only ten. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But at ten, he realizes what the swooping feeling inside him is when Betty kisses his cheek. He realizes what it means that he wants to be near her, all the time. He knows the significance of thinking that she’s maybe kind of pretty. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re not babies anymore. People tease them for spending time together, fashion bouquets mockingly for their wedding. Jughead thinks they’re dumb, because why would marrying Betty Cooper be something to mock?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He says nothing, though. Betty only notices Archie, but Archie doesn’t notice Betty. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t understand why. Betty is the best of all of them. She helped Archie learn to read. She brings Jughead food. She shoves Cheryl Blossom when she makes fun of Ethel Muggs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who wouldn’t want to be with her always? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It continues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are hospital procedures to follow, and he knows this. His memories of the hospital after the beatdown he received from the Ghoulies are sporadic, but he remembers constant IV changes, vitals checks, positioning changes, rehab consults. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, two days into Betty’s hospital stay, he’s getting the hang of the routine. He has to, because Betty hasn’t stopped clutching him in those two days. He changes and uses the bathroom when she’s dead asleep, eats with her, sleeps with her curled into his chest and it’s something he doesn’t allow his psyche to dive too deep into. He doesn’t allow himself the comparison to before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there’s the Jessica issue. During a rarity of a time when he wasn’t right beside her, he had finally accepted Jessica’s call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her primary emotion was concern, and that is so very her. She’s just worried about him, not even angry. Perhaps a bit confused. Why would he need to stay days with an old friend if they were safely in the hospital with their family on the way? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a fair question, but not one he can answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tells her he’ll call her soon, and then he hears Betty start to stir. He hangs up quickly, but not before Jessica tells him she loves him. His finger hovers over the End Call button, and something blocks his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” he croaks out, and they’re both aware it’s not in any way enough, but for some reason it’s all he can manage right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he’s easily distracted, anyway. Betty reacts to each doctor in the same way. Her eyes light with fear, she uses an impressive amount of strength for how tiny she is to hit them away from her, and on the off chance he’s not right beside her, he hears her cries and whimpers and she will never allow them anywhere near her until he’s right there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has the barest bones of what would probably, under ordinary circumstances, be necessary, attached to her. He knows that to be true because she’s definitely not getting enough pain meds as she should be, if her whimpers are anything to go by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her leg is heavily casted, and mostly immobile. The nurses that are sent in to adjust her positioning do not have much success coming within five feet of her, so he adjusts her when he can, but he still hears the whimpers. He pleads for near all of the second day before she finally allows them to give her one dose more of pain meds, under his careful supervision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It allows her relief, and that is a relief to him. She soon slips into a less fitful sleep than before, and is a bit loopy, but before she goes under, he hears her say “Thank you, Juggie. You always protect me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a bit of an odd statement, but she’s under the influence. And she finally loosens her grip on his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s confused, because this has never been Betty. And he sees the glances the doctors exchange. They’re worried too, he knows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they show it, because the next day, the rules of visiting hours, which before had never been enforced, are suddenly all-important and they inform him that if he doesn’t leave for the night, they will employ security to escort him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s almost laughable, he thinks. They think he’s hurting her. And because of that, he knows exactly what will happen when he leaves. Even if they’re fortunate enough to get him out while she’s sleeping, she’ll wake in a panic. And when they send the inevitable psychiatrist to her, they’ll find her paralyzed with fear. She’ll lash out, terrified, and then they’ll drug her. And he’s powerless to stop it, but he can’t leave her with the image of security dragging him out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He explains it to her, or he tries. She begs him not to go. He tells her it’s not his choice, they’re forcing him out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Juggie. Don’t leave me,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone. You never left me alone before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lip trembles as he tells her he’ll be back the second visiting hours open again, that it’s just while she’s asleep, that her mother is on her way. Her head jerks down in a nod, and she doesn’t let go of his hand until the very last second. His last look at her is as she lies rigid in the bed, silent tears falling down her cheeks. He feels like his feet are made of lead as he walks home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jessica has cooked dinner, and looks thrilled to finally have him home. She slings her arms around his neck, tells him she’s missed him, that she hopes his friend is okay, and should she bring Betty anything?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so good natured, and he wonders why he feels guilt twisting in his gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It may show on his face, because she asks him if he’s okay, and he shoots her a smile that he hopes is convincing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, she snuggles into him, falls asleep with a “love you. Happy you’re home”, and the feeling returns, accompanied by an odd feeling that he’s living the life of someone else. That this life just slightly wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This, he recalls, is precisely the reason he refused to see Betty for five years. Because of this jumbled mess of feelings currently swirling in his gut. However, now it’s too late. Now, as he holds his wonderful girlfriend in his arms, he thinks of nothing but he shouldn’t be here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s needed elsewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t really sleep. Ever so quietly, he packs a bag, and actively ignores that it’s a rather large bag. As if he is planning to be gone for awhile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves her a note in the morning’s early hours, and is at the hospital at first light. He fixes the doctor and nursing staff with a glare, but his stomach drops when he gets to her. She’s sleeping, but he can tell from the askew bedsheets that the night was not good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face is pale and drawn even as she sleeps and the nurses look a little wan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He strokes her face gently, as she stirs. Her eyes slowly open, and he laces their fingers together. Her mouth quirks in a smile as something inside of him relaxes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug,” she breathes. “You came back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course he did. How could he not? She needs him, so he’s here. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Betty goes to New York when they’re fourteen. A summer internship, Alice says, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t want to go, not really.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s lonely, he knows, because she texts him all the time. The first few days are a constant stream of texts and sometimes she peppers in an “I miss you, Juggie.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So one day he calls her, later at night. Her voice shakes when she tries to tell him she’s fine, so he tells her a story about Reggie Mantle and his legendary stupidity to make her laugh, and then her voice sounds stronger. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So it becomes a tradition. He calls her nightly, and they talk until they sleep. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It makes the feelings of butterflies in his stomach intensify to hear her laugh, but he says nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day is spent slowly. She naps, he holds her hand for medical procedures, and during the time she sleeps, he writes furiously. He writes harder than he has written in years. Plots and characters spring to life behind his eyes and he can scarcely get them onto the page before they spin away from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fields calls from Alice (she’s having trouble getting a flight out. Another day or two, and she sounds panicked. He reassures her that Betty is fine, don’t worry, get here when you can). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a moment where Betty is asleep, he calls Jessica to apologize. He can tell her patience is running thin, and he can’t say he blames her. She comes close to a beg when she asks him if he’ll be home soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss you, Jughead,” she says. He misses her too, in a lot of ways. Her warmth, her understanding, her kindness. He’s fond of her. But he has a place to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In boring moments, Betty and Jughead read to each other or they thumb wrestle, but they don’t talk about mysteries. That feels to him like taking a step into the before, and that is dangerous territory, to be avoided for as long as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is to say, around 7pm, when Betty wakes to find him where he is a fixture, lying beside her, hands entwined.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stares at him, tears in her eyes, longing in her expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Juggie,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s skirting along the edge of the big topics, so he tries to brush it off. This time, though, she won’t allow it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Jug. Really. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears slip from her eyes, and her voice trembles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hurt you. I ruined everything, for so long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, mentally steeling himself. They’ve avoided this topic for so long, but it’s here. They are finally at the place that diverged his path from the person he loved since he was a child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He casts his eyes down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It...it hurt. I….” he breaks off. This feels like unlocking a door that he’s purposely avoided for five years, but this is a moment for honesty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It hurt, and it hurt for years afterward. And mostly, it hurt because it felt like a betrayal of what our relationship was.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes well. She lays a gentle hand on his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug,” she breathes, but he shakes her off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When have you not been able to talk to me, Betty? What was it about our relationship that wasn’t making you feel safe? Why was it that you had to run to Archie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He breaks off, pinches the bridge of his nose to attempt to slow the tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why wasn’t I a safe place for you anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty whimpers, and tucks herself closer. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jug. You always have been. Even after...even after, you were the only thing that kept me safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the next in a list of odd statements she’s said to him, but she keeps going. “But you were pushing me away, and I was...confused.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs, twisting their hands together. “Archie was because I was confused.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The summation doesn’t help. If anything, it ignites a flame inside him. “So you betrayed me, and our relationship, because you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>confused</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Because I wasn’t doing my homework?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heaves out a sob. “It doesn’t make sense, I know. But with everything that had happened, and everything that was going to happen, a tiny part of me just wanted to retreat to a time when everything felt safer, or easier. And Archie represented that to me. A part of my life that I could just…fall into.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swallows hard. She must feel how tense he is against her, but he knows she doesn’t dare go further than holding his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it was a lie. It didn’t make everything easier. It blew up everything. Because of what I did, I lost everything. Everything that mattered to me, and my life hasn’t been the same for five years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a dark undertone to her voice, something she’s not telling him. He knows her well enough to know this, and it makes him lean a bit closer. It’s a signal to her, because she leans against him. Betty heaves out a breath, as he feels her shoulders relax and her melt into him. It means something, he knows. She’s trusting him with something. She’s been through something. And perhaps for the first time, he allows his eyes to drink her in, unfiltered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, but she looks...different. Her hands are closed, but he can already sense the cuts on her palms. She’s thin, almost frail looking. Her eyes carry permanent dark bags under them and her eyes look different. They’re harder than before. Almost haunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Betty,” he whispers, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “What happened in the last few years?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes a sharp inhale in. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart around the room. He wonders if he crossed a line, if he pushed her too far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was bad, Jug,” she whispers. “Not..not always. Not in the first few years. But when it started, I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t feel safe anywhere. Not until you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She heaves a breath out, like she has just confessed something huge. To her, he supposes, she has. But he doesn’t understand. He’s no clearer on what happened. What terrified to her to such a degree that she wouldn’t let him go? What was there that was so traumatizing? And more than that, why did she insist he was there? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything inside of him wants to know, wants to ask. But she trembles underneath his hand, and he knows he’s probably already gone too far.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s moments of silence, but this is a conversation for bravery, and of course, it’s Betty that finally broaches the topic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug, you’re not...there’s nobody?” They both know what she’s asking, and he knows exactly what his response should be. Sure, it will change things between them. Yes, she will pull away. But Jessica exists, and the history between them exists. Things can’t just fall back into the way they were. So he steels his courage, and then makes the mistake of looking into the same wide green eyes that he’s loved since he was five. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he whispers, so soft it’s almost inaudible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles, and brings a hand up to stroke down his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Betty,” he says softly, and he’s only half-sure why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “You were protecting me, Juggie. The whole time, you were protecting me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they move together as their lips touch.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>That jumbled mix of emotions involves equal parts of shame and calm. Kissing Betty is like slipping into the past. Like falling into place, but it’s not the past. And he has a girlfriend. And he is doing exactly what broke him and Betty up, so gently, he disentangles her lips from his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s surprised, but he guides her into him, and they lie for long moments. Jughead knows it, now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he and Jessica are, will never be him and Betty. He can’t do this to her, shouldn’t be doing it to either of them. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bargains with her for fifteen minutes before she’ll finally allow him out, ostensibly under the guise of signing some paperwork. He presses a long kiss to her forehead before he leaves, and feels her visibly relax and smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barges out of the hospital doors, and leans over a nearby railing, sucking in several deep breaths. His mind races with all that has happened in the last day alone, so much that the frigid air feels like a relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kissed Betty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure what it means. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has a girlfriend. A kind, loving, understanding girlfriend who at times has shown him more grace than he deserved. She was good to him. She didn’t deserve this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then, there was Betty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as horrible as it was, he couldn’t ignore Betty. That was something he had never been capable of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For thirteen years of his life, she was all that made sense to him. He’d thought that time gone, but it wasn’t. Because she had been back for less than 4 days, and it already felt like home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The decision seems obvious, so he reaches for his phone. He should do this now. Tell Jessica they had to talk, that it was nothing she did, that she was good and honest and deserved so much more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But his phone is not in his side pocket. Nor, as he checks, any of his pockets. Perhaps the universe is telling him to wait, and he really should go back to Betty’s room anyway. Steeling himself with one last deep breath, he heads inside. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The difference is notable as soon as he enters Betty’s room. She hears him coming, but she faces away from him. Her back is straight and rigid. She’s trembling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He jets to her side and reaches for her hand, but she yanks away, brandishing his phone in her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were gone, and it wouldn’t stop ringing, so I answered it.” Her face is white, and ashen, but that’s not the worst part. Her eyes are closed off. She’s not looking at him like he’s her only trusted person anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the screen, a text message is illuminated. “I love you. I miss you. Please come home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The contact shows Jessica’s name, and it’s followed by a heart emoji . Appropriate, because his own heart is pounding madly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Betty,” he chokes out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shoves the phone at him. “Get out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Betty, please let me explain…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or I will call security.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turns away from him, tears slipping out, </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He still calls her at night when they’re fifteen. Not all the time, but sometimes. Not for hours, but sometimes just to hear her voice. He calls her after the dance, and she studiously tells him she’s fine, even though her voices is more devastated than he’s ever heard it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hates Archie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s wrong with Archie?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s Betty. If there was ever even a chance that she may feel...no. That line of logic is dangerous. To be avoided at all costs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But he stays on the phone with her, gives her “exclusives” on his book, tries to make her laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She only sounds slightly better when they hang up, but it’s enough for him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Honestly, both in fanfiction and in the show, I can't help but feel bad for Jessica. She will be written terribly, be the target of so much hate, and the girl is fighting a losing battle. In my headcanon, if we flash forward to her a few years in the future, she gets all the love she deserves.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. at least then i'd know there was a time it was here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He categorizes the Bettys he knows. The Betty he knew at 15, pastel pink and desperate to break free. </p>
<p>The Betty from three years of the most beautiful relationship, relaxed and undone in his arms.</p>
<p>The Betty on her knees, begging him not to leave. </p>
<p>And the broken Betty he sees in front of him now. A breaking he contributed to. </p>
<p>They’re all beautiful, somehow, to him. He doesn’t think Betty Cooper, even a broken Betty Cooper, will ever not be beautiful to him. </p>
<p>This Betty, though. This Betty tells him she wants to be alone, and he tells her that he’ll be alone with her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WE DONNNNNEEEE. </p>
<p>s/o to AO3 for shadowbanning this fic. </p>
<p>s/o to Covid for my general air of stress.</p>
<p>s/o to my job for sucking my will to live. </p>
<p>But we go on! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter of people working their shit out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The walk home feels like it takes years. Betty’s face, Betty’s words, they play on a never-ending loop through his brain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was your girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get out, or I’ll call security.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An hour ago, she would have viewed security as an enemy, for which he would have been her protector. Now they’re protecting her from him, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt worse in his life. He hurt her. He hurt both of them, he knows. He lied to both of them, and both of them deserve better.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can barely untangle one thought from the next, but he does know that everything feels wrong now. Leaving the hospital feels wrong. Going home feels wrong. He doesn’t understand why this happened or where it all went wrong. Mere days ago, his life was fine. He was writing, had a life he was okay with, and a girlfriend he was fond of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(A treacherous voice in the back of his head tells him that </span>
  <em>
    <span>fond of</span>
  </em>
  <span> seems like the parlance one may use to describe their grandparents, but he squashes it down.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessica is waiting for him as soon as he gets home. He should have anticipated that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s sitting at the table, her eyes cast down. She doesn’t know, but it’s like she does. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sits opposite her, tries to reach out a hand to her. She yanks hers back, and her voice is thick with tears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You loved her, didn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head, a glint of anger in her eyes. It’s as if she’s been sitting on this for a while. As if she has been waiting for him, turning this over in her head, again and again, connecting the dots.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t play dumb with me, Jughead. You know who I mean. She wasn’t just an old friend, was she? You loved her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s more of a statement than a question. He jerks his head in a nod, because yes, he did love Betty. There was a time where she was all he loved.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jessica nods slowly. “And now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, I...I’m with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, she shakes her head. “That’s not an answer, Jughead! And it doesn’t explain the last few days. You’ve barely been here; you are with her constantly. And even when you’re here, you’re not here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I came home!” he did. For one very long night, he was here. Physically, he was here, with Jessica. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s not enough, and both of them know it because she shakes her head, swallowing down tears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were in our apartment. But you weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I think, then and now, I knew where you really were. You were with her, because...because you love her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the present tense that makes his head snap up, and he wants to fight it, wants to tell her she’s wrong, that he loves her, that he didn’t backslide on five years apart in three days, back to the person he’s loved since he was ten. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And this all feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast. </span>
  </em>
  <span>In a matter of days, Betty was rushed back into his life, and now, less than a week later, a seemingly happy relationship lies at his feet in a few sentences. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were with her, this whole time.” Again, it’s not a question. Jughead feels deeply uncomfortable against Jessica’s gaze. He did wrong, and even if she doesn’t know what happened, she’s figured something out that he’s not even sure he’s ready to unpack yet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said she was an old friend. And then I can’t even get you on the phone. You’re with her day and night, there whenever she needs you, and I want to know why.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “I’m not...sure I know why.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pauses a moment, stroking her fingers through her long hair. He should comfort her, he thinks. He should reach out, but he senses that wouldn’t do much good, and he can hardly blame her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’ve never told me about your life before, and I used to think that was because there were bad memories there. I used to think talking about it would be too painful, and that was why you never fully opened up to me. But it wasn’t, was it? The times in your past weren’t painful; they were...happy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flashes of life in Riverdale rush through his mind. The Serpent gauntlet, the Black Hood, the Gargoyle King. Not fond memories, but then there was Betty. There was the time he climbed through her window and kissed her, and his heart nearly beat out of his chest. There was the time he held her after her mother disappeared, moved her in with him, held her when she woke up screaming. There was her, tenderly patching him up after some stupid fight with the Ghoulies. For every bad memory, there’s Betty on the other side, so the memories aren’t tinged with sad; they’re bright, so bright it’s almost painful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his eyes to Jessica and speaks. It pours out of him as he tells her about life in Riverdale, about growing up in a home where his parents fought continuously, about being the outsider until two friends dragged him in—about feeling butterflies in his stomach when he was near Betty Cooper since he was old enough to understand it. About how each memory of his childhood is a twin to a happy one, because of Betty, and sometimes because of Veronica and Archie. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he finally finishes, he looks up at Jessica, and her expression is unreadable. She gives a slow nod. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been through a lot, Jughead. You’ve been through stuff that would crush most people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been said to him before, but it’s never really sunk in. It’s true, though. Growing up where and how he did was an amount of trauma most people never experienced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you got through it, with her. You don’t see it as unhappy because you had her. That’s how you both got through things that may have ruined you. Because you had each other.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs and reaches out for his hand, finally. Her fingers twine into his, and it feels different than all the times before. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Every time either of you went through something, you clung to each other. And whether or not you want to believe it, that didn’t go away, Jug. It’s happening now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “No. She was...different. Something else happened.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks back to the last few days with Betty. How she didn’t trust anyone but him. How she was skittish of every test, every needle, every procedure. How she never let him leave her side and told him things like “You always protect me,” only he hadn’t been there for five years. He remembers the haunted look in her eyes and feels a pang inside him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Jessica says softly. “But the reaction was the same. Something happened, so she needed you. She needed you, so you were there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s true, and there is not much to say to it. They sit for moments, and then Jessica stands slowly. His eyes follow her as she shrugs a bag onto her shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Turning back to him, her eyes are wet. “You didn’t even think of me during that time, did you? And you...something happened between you two.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too late to lie to her. He’s done with lies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he breathes. “One kiss. But I stopped it, because - “ he stops when she lifts a hand to silence him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t, Jughead. Please don’t pretend you were doing this for me. I was never your priority here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She lets out a snort, and a few tears fall. “Shit, I don’t know if I was ever your priority.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s silent, but a few tears fall on his end as well. “I’m sorry, Jessica.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s feeble, pathetic, and the least she deserves. She smiles sadly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a long pause. “We’re over, Jug. I think we’ve been over for a while. So I’m going to stay with Jordan. And as for you…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She casts him one last look, up and down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we both know where you’re going.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her bed is empty, and his heart pounds madly, in a way that wasn’t from the run over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t allowed himself to think much, then, because if he had, he might not be here. He may have called out to Jessica to come back or considered Betty’s words as a sign that their time was over. Surely, he would have thought better of it, and that’s why he didn’t allow himself to think. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But she isn’t there, and his mind turns back on with a vengeance, running through all the scenarios of where she could be and what could have happened to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only interrupted when a nurse comes in to straighten the bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Jughead presses out a stumbling request to know what happened to the girl here. The nurse has a somewhat bored affect as she tells him the girl checked herself out against medical advice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably for the best,” she says. “This is no place to be in the state she’s been in, last few days.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They won’t give him her address, but something inside of him, the part of him that is still an expert on all things Betty Cooper, knows she’s not there anyway. It’s the part of him that, deep down, knows exactly where she is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s no warmer outside than it was a few days ago. Likely, it’s colder. The wind slides him this way and that as he runs to the spot he knows she is, and he allows himself a moment of frustration that of all places, this is the one she’d be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He never really doubted where he’d find her, but his stomach still drops in relief as he spots her hunched over figure, sat on a large rock, and barely moving as snow flies off the lake in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He treads quietly, but she doesn’t even jump as he comes up to her. It’s like she expected it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here, Jughead?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It slips out completely unguarded. “Because you’re here.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She tenses at that. He sits on a rock opposite her and doesn’t dare move closer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be back with your </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” It’s bit out like she is forcing the word out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re over,” he sighs. That was what she said, wasn’t it? And he didn’t fight it, because of course, he didn’t. She just put words to what he couldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re over.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty shakes her head, biting her lip between her teeth. “How nice."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mentally, Jughead categorizes the Bettys he knows. The Betty he knew at 15, pastel pink and desperate to break free. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Betty from three years of the most beautiful relationship, relaxed and undone in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Betty on her knees, begging him not to leave. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And the broken Betty he sees in front of him now. A breaking he contributed to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re all beautiful, somehow, to him. He doesn’t think Betty Cooper, even a broken Betty Cooper, will ever not be beautiful to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This Betty, though. This Betty tells him she wants to be alone, and he tells her that he’ll be alone with her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, they sit in silence, watching the snowflakes dance in the wind off the lake. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s ages, perhaps years, perhaps only minutes before he dares broach the topic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty...something happened to you, didn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t respond, so he presses further. “Something bad. That was the reason you couldn’t let me go in the hospital. You were scared, like, really scared. Someone is terrifying you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She still doesn’t respond, but he sees the tears start to spill down her cheeks, and he’s never been good at seeing Betty Cooper cry, so he moves closer to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty...please tell me what happened.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She heaves a shaking sigh. Her eyes still don’t meet his, but her posture softens.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Shadow.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s whispered as if she’s never said it before. It triggers an actual wave of tears, and he can’t stop himself from putting a hand on her back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty...who is The Shadow?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “I don’t know. But he knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everything I had done. And it wasn’t just phone calls. It was emails, letters, messages through strangers. Someone called into work and told them about my past, and they fired me. Someone told my friends, too. Strangers. Victims. My power would go off for days, and I’d find messages spray-painted into my door.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach gives a painful twist, and his mind is transported back over seven years ago, to another stalker and another trauma Betty experienced that he was too </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pay attention to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As above, so below. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They tortured you,” he breathes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods slowly. “For months. Nowhere was safe, Jug. Nowhere. Everyone knew, and I wasn’t...I wasn’t even safe at home. I moved, I changed my number, but he always found me. And he got everyone around me on his side.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It seems patently ridiculous that anyone would be against Betty Cooper, the purest, kindest person he knew. The person who would give all of herself to others until there was nothing left. Who would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be there when she needed them?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had, even after their relationship exploded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone thought I was dangerous. And he recruited people. I never….” she hiccups, and he slides an arm fully around her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I never knew who was on my side and who was on </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I could barely leave my room. </span>
  <span>So I went to see a psychiatrist. She prescribed me meds right away. I went to fill them, but something...held me back. And when I got home, there was you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, she looks at him fully. Her green eyes are bright and wet, and there is a pang in his heart. It’s a pang he recognizes. It’s his heart that throbs with love for her, love that never really went away. She’s looking at him like she used to, and he knows he’s looking at her like he used to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lays a head on his shoulder, and he feels his fingers card through her hair, like he used to, as they lay in their bed together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were there, Jughead. You held me; you comforted me. You told me not to take the pills, and I don’t even know why, but I trusted you. As it turns out, the psychiatrist was working with The Shadow. The pills would have taken away what little control I had, and I would have taken them, except...you were there.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He holds her through a sob. He was there. He was there even when he wasn’t, but he should have been there for real. He should have held her like this months before. He was gone. He let himself be mad, and he let himself give up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost as if she understands what he’s thinking (she always did), she reaches out and clasps their hands together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were just a figment of my imagination, but I held onto you. I needed you. You were the only thing that got me through it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His throat is so tight; he can barely breathe. His mind conjures up the image that has rarely left his mind. Betty, on the lake, the wind whipping her hair. The way his heart stopped at the sight of her, as it always had and always would. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words barely escape. “Betty...the lake?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She swallows hard. “That day, I was walking by this lake, and...there you were again. You were out on the ice, and I didn’t know why then, but you told me to come with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hears little but that he almost hurt her again. It wasn’t even him, but he almost broke her. He is, however indirectly, the reason she was out on the ice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a familiar spiral, the it’s-all-my-fault spiral. She knows that, even now. He feels her pull back, feels her hands on his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Juggie. You asked me to come with you. So I did, and it...it led me right to you. The real you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A sob breaks loose. “I hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “Never. It led us back to each other, Juggie. And then you were protecting me in real life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He leans a forehead against hers, and for moments, they simply soak each other in. In some ways, it’s like it was before, but fuller. Different, but not different in a bad way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A shiver runs through her, and finally, he registers again how cold it is and mentally slaps himself. Fresh out of the hospital, and he couldn’t even take her inside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about…” she hesitates. The topic is dangerous, especially considering recent history. “What about us?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks for a moment. There’s so much he wants to say, but he only knows where to start. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Betty,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Jessica. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just...so much has happened, Betty, in the last few days alone. Maybe we don’t have to decide this right now. Maybe we can just...start from here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He feels her spine tense under his arm. “You’re going to go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God, no!” It’s the one thing he knows he wouldn’t do. The very thing he will fight at all costs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But I want to do this right. I want this to be a fresh start. To be better. So...slowly. Maybe even friends?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looks to be considering it. “But you’ll be here? You won’t leave?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “I left you alone before. Too many times, and it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I won’t do that again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He clasps both hands on top of hers. “Someone is hurting you, Betts. And we figure that out together. Like we always have.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A tiny, wobbly smile breaks forth. “So what you’re saying is...we need a corkboard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A real smile breaks out on Jughead’s face too. “I happen to have one at my place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And so it goes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back together, in physicality, even if not yet in feelings. What between them could be bent, not broken, but they would live if they were together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They would survive. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But The Shadow, he wasn’t done with them. And if, indeed, they would live, well, that remained to be seen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A girl rocks back and forth, back and forth as behind her, a heart monitor wails out a flatline. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The doctors lift their hands from his chest with somber expressions, and the girl collapses. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kinda leaving this open for a sequel, now that these two have worked their shit out? mayyyybbeeee.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tumble with me at thatiranianphantom dot tumblr dot com</p><p>Also, any teachers catch the F&amp;P reading levels? Level O is impressive for Grade 2, Betty and Jughead. Archie...you’ll get there.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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